A Rough Encounter
by MoriartyPosts
Summary: Reader/Moriarty (Moriame) You are whisked back to the great Jim Moriarty's apartment but the evening does not go as smoothly as you hope. Also involves Sebastian M.
1. Chapter 1

His grip is strong as his arm pulls your hip towards his. The height difference means he has to lift you slightly, so you're forced to balance on the tip of your toes. You lean onto his body and allow his hands to invade yours. His strong muscular grasp clutches onto you, the pleasure of his touch makes you fall into complete submission. You know he luxuriates in the sense of mastery, and you plan to give him full authority.

Your head bangs against the front door as he passionately kisses you once more. Even as he fumbles in his pocket for the door key, his mouth never breaks away from yours. His body is so close that you can feel the key being forced out from between his thigh and yours. With the clinking of the lock, the door slips open from behind you.

Momentarily, you think you are going to fall, but Moriarty's hold remains strong and with one arm he supports your weight. Still holding onto you, he leads you through his apartment and into his bedroom. Your eyes remain closed so you don't familiarise with the interior of his home. But the inside decor is the least of your worries. You halt to a stop as you reach his room. He switches the light on with one hand and a dim light floods across the simplistic yet stunning room.

You feel the wood of his bed hit the back of your shins and his crooked smile forming against your blushing cheek. He purposely lets go of your waist. The fall is broken by the soft silk duvet that is Moriarty-scented. You lay there as he looks down on you and allow yourself to look at your master, to study his face. His rogue look makes him, oddly, handsome. His brown dominating eyes cut into you; his stare is mesmerising and you are completely subdued. He tilts his head and squints his eyes in a condescending way.

Feeling humiliated, you react immediately. You kick off your heels and retreat your legs closer to your body. Despite the fact he appears to be an ordinary man, his history screams with danger. Every known criminal organisation is controlled at his hands. Every crime from daylight robbery to assassination is decided by him. You ought to run now; surely it's not too late? However, the amorous lust paralyses you and you wait for him to pleasure you.

You allow your thoughts to trail but quickly draw focus back into the haze of the room and then you realise it: His stare is different and his crooked smile hangs from his face. His eyes have darkened and now greedily devour your presence. You wonder what he is planning to do with you. Confusion settles in and you try to understand his facial expression. His smile, although gorgeous, makes you so very scared. Fear runs through every cell of your body, your muscles contract and your bones tremble. Even your lungs recognise the threat as your breathing slowers to a painful rate. Knowing Moriarty, your fear is completely rational, rumours state that he could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. You think, at any moment he could issue the order to take your life. To Moriarty, playing God and taking away life is just as pleasurable as sex. And for you, the danger of being with him is just as pleasurable.

Although you ache for it, you haven't mentally prepared yourself for the precariousness of Moriarty. However Moriarty's mercurial personality is what turns you on. He moves towards you and smiles. Oh so coyly. You cower your legs further behind you and watch him stalk to his desk. He slips his coat off and places it on a luxurious, crushed red velvet chair. He keeps his back faced to you for a while. You can see him take off his watch and place it on the dressing table. A drawer squeaks open and he pulls something out. You cannot help but be concerned so you shift yourself, angling towards the dressing table to get a better look.  
"No peaking." Moriarty commanded.

With that, you quickly reposition yourself, driving yourself to near insanity with the infinite possibilities of what lies in his hand. Whatever it is, it is well concealed now, so you try not to worry. Moriarty strides towards you and now stands directly in front of you. He looks pleased, almost smug. His navy blue shirt hugs his body outlining his muscles. He loosens his buckle and his trousers slide slightly but remains balanced on his broad pelvis bone."Now, come here." The sense of authority is overwhelming but you obey- you want to please him.

Anxiously, you crawl towards him, but he pulls your hair taking you off guard, manipulating your head to his level. You kneel with both fists clenched by your side. Surprisingly, he begins to kiss your neck and lets go of your hair. His hands slither down from your face and ease onto your collar bone; he begins to unbutton your shirt. As each button pops open, Moriarty slips downwards and eventually kisses your breasts. You feel so pleasured but awkward. You raise your hands to place them into his hair, but return them timidly to your side. Sensing your discomfort he tugs at your sleeves, pulling your shirt off and then guides your hands onto his neck. At first it felt odd, but you let your hands rubs against his neck, your fingers running through his hair. He tips you over using his body and lies there on top. Briefly rummaging behind your back and snapping your bra open. You feel exposed as your half naked body now fully presses against his clothed body.

Crescent imprints of bite marks form onto your skin and your body glows with anger as Moriarty's touch becomes rougher and harder. As he runs his fingers up and down your upper body red marks shortly follow. He hasn't shaved and his stubble pricks and tingles against your sensitive skin. He gently kisses the centre of your chest before sitting upright to study you. He curls his fingers into your jeans and you hear the button pop open as he pulls it off you. The material drags through your skin and once passed your thigh eases off. Down with it goes your underwear. The exposure from before warps into a nightmare- you are completely naked. Discomfort, vulnerability and fear battle through your mind as Moriarty once again looks at you. He really stares hard, his eyes boring into you, completely examining every inch of skin and every groove and curve. Feeling insecure and you regret eating that piece of cake from the previous night. Satisfied, Moriarty unbuttons his own shirt. Relief rushes through you. He throws his shirt to one side of the room and then leans back into you. Now you can feel it, his warmth and oh did it feel good. You draw your hands onto the back of his neck as he bites your earlobe. Bravely you venture your hands onto his upper torso and claw onto it in a sensuous way. The foreplay seemed to last forever...


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO  
Each item of clothing has been roughly stripped off you. Moriarty sits between your legs, his hands applying pressure onto the inner of your thighs, his finger tips pushing down into your muscles. Oh God, the sheer strength of him scares but excites you. The very idea of the strength and power he possesses overwhelms you, as you realise he could easily penetrate through the soft tissue of your skin with merely his thumb. He senses your delusional fear and pulls your legs closer to him forcing your back to arch. Your pelvis bone sticks outwards and your knees bend towards him as you very carefully wrap your legs around his shirtless body. Still holding your thighs he leans into you; starting at the naval he gently kisses you. The tickle and warmth of his shallow breathe ignites your nerves. Your stomach is in rage with desire. Now you really want him to take you, anyway he wants. The rougher the better. He relaxes his body onto yours, the touch makes your legs cave in as your body responds to the affection. He works his way up kissing your breasts along the way and begins to bite into your collar bones. The bite deliver a guilty pleasure and the idea of feral sex is slowly beginning to turn you on.

Never before had sex been this rough, even with the little experience you possess, it was never like this. Sex had always been delicate and never long lasting but with Moriarty the foreplay alone was more sensual than any other encounter, then again there were only few other encounters to use as comparatives. Your mind drifts off to the distant memory of your last pursuit and the tragic rejection that followed. Gosh what an ass that guy turned out to be. You glance down at the man who now lies on you, head between your breasts and try to block the inevitable reality. Although, essentially this appears to be a brusque one-night-stand, you whole-heartedly want Moriarty. Despite the fact you have known him for less than a day; he captured your love immediately. Of course it's absurd to say it was love at first sight, but he certainly has your attraction. You want to get to know him and the idea of just letting him go is daunting.

He moves onto your neck and begins sucking at it dragging you back into the heat of the moment. You feel the blood seep through the layers of skin, bruising. The excitement as Moriarty leaves his love bites on your skin. You allow your head to tilt backwards, letting out filthy moans of satisfaction. Trembling, your hand grasps onto the back of his neck. The other hand runs up and down his spine. Your touch is as ardent as possible; you want him to feel as aroused as you are. He breaks away and cups both his hands onto your breasts, leaning on them for support. He looks at you again, testing you for fear and weakness. Even though terrified, you stare straight back into his dilated pupils. A crooked smile breaks out into a satisfied laugh, finally the moment you have waited for.

"Jim, where's the fucking tea?" A loud growling voice shouts from outside the bedroom. The voice rudely crashes into room, immediately breaking the mood. You panic; who on Earth is that and could his untimely entrance be any more undesirable?

The smile on Moriarty's face instantly collapses and his head falls into your stomach. Snapping back, he looks up, groaning and stares at you apologetically. He sharply breathes in before shouting,

"For fucks sake. Why the fuck do you always do this Sebastian? You fucking twat."  
Even though angry, his reply was smooth. You feel further confused, who is this man and what is his connection to Moriarty?

"Well, where's the fucking tea Jimmy boy," the ominous voice projects back, sounding as arrogant as can be. He clearly has no idea of the occurrences that were about to proceed.

"I told you never fucking call me that. Seb, I warn you, leave now, you shit. Or I will skin you."

Too late. The voice doesn't bother to reply; instead footsteps stride towards the door. You panic at the sight of being seen naked with someone other than Moriarty. The door handle hinges and the living room light submerges into the bedroom.

"What the fuck are you..." The voice trails off and Moriarty twists to face the voice. You take this opportunity to slide yourself behind Moriarty peering over the edge of his shoulder as his body conceals you.

"Oh... Shit, I'm sorry. Well don't mind me; I'm going to watch..." The voice halts and stares straight at you and that's when it hits you. That husky voice, of course it's Moran: The ass who didn't call you back, leading you to consume an absurd amount of Ben and Jerry's. You take the duvet with you as you jump off the bed to confront him.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE:  
"Sebastian. Sebastian Moran?!" You splutter in a fit of rage and shame as Sebastian leisurely gazes at your naked body. He breaks into a smirk causing you to pull the duvet a little tighter.

"Well isn't this the turn out." He playfully ventures still wearing that stupid grin. You couldn't believe the coincidence of the whole situation and how arrogant he was acting. "I see you've moved on from me; I'm hurt." He says mockingly, clutching his chest just to be over the top.

"I. What. How are you...?" You falter the words out; you're embarrassment becoming apparent as you lose the ability to speak.

"I must say, I'm liking your new attire." Sebastian flirted, completely ignoring the fact Jim was in the room. "But I'd prefer for it to be on my bedroom floor."

"This shows over; Moran explain now. How do you know her?" Jim was serious, his eyes were dark but not with lust like before. This time it was anger. Sebastian laughed; he knew he had pushed all the right buttons to annoy Jim.

"Now, now Jim. I think you're scaring my plaything." Sebastian whispered. He cocked his head to one side. He was calm, so very composed, which struck you as weird. He should be terrified, how dare he challenge the great Jim Moriarty and more importantly why was Jim tolerating it? You stand still, trying to make as little noise as possible, hoping Jim would forget your presence.

How could you be so stupid? Why did you have to go home with the most dangerous criminal known to man? He was a fugitive in almost every country, a man with the blood of thousands on his hands. And now you were in the middle of a weird sex triangle with him and his what... roommate? Friend? Associate? You wanted to run, to just leave; forget everything. Jim was appealing and gorgeous but you were not ready for him. You hadn't thought about the consequences. Jim was a psychopath, just so changeable; he could get bored of you in a split second and order your execution. The danger that surrounded Moriarty was the very thing that attracted you to him at first but now the sober reality crept in and the highs of lust and yearning dissipated leaving you feeling vulnerable and sicken with fear.

Jim stood up, walking passed you, placing himself in between yourself and Sebastian.

"Sebastian, do not test my patience." Jim grimaced; he was now seething with fury. You wish for Sebastian to speak up, to excuse you from having to explain the situation to Jim yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to talk about it. Especially in this situation.

"You're no fun Jim. Old age has gotten the better of you. Pity." Sebastian purred the words out, enunciating the word "pity". Jim didn't bother to talk, he just glared.

"I fucked her. Good lay, you should have fun tonight." Sebastian said, completely serious. Humiliation was what you had felt before; now, no words could explain the painful embarrassment that filled you. Sebastian turned to you and locked his eyes on yours. "Sorry I didn't call poppet. I've been busy."

Jim wanted blood. He was fuming and all he could see was red. He advanced towards you until he stood an inch away from you. _Well, you had lead a good life, if the time to say goodbye was now, let it be. _You ceased to breathe, too scared to move. Nothing was intimate about this; he looked like a predator about to attack his prey. His facial expression was menacing. Raising a hand, he laced it around your neck, gripping it slightly allowing his thumb to stroke your thorax. You blink rapidly trying your hardest to stop the tears but Jim didn't need tears as an indicator for fear, he could smell the fear bubbling through you. He got off on it. His hold became firmer and you now struggle to breathe.

"Leave. I'll deal with you later." Jim said, releasing his grip. Your hand quickly travels to your neck, trying to sooth the pain. You wanted to cry, you felt like you had betrayed him. How were you to know that Sebastian was a friend of Jim's? A single tear rolled down your cheek and you nodded in agreement to Jim, still refusing to make eye contact. You had to say something, explain it, beg for forgiveness but you could tell Jim was in no mood for talking. You looked down on the floor, searching for your clothes which conveniently were pooled around Jim. He bent down, picking them up all at once and threw them at you. He harshly exhaled and darted a look at you.

"I hate to be rude but I really think you have outstayed your welcome sweetheart." Sebastian cruelly said. He was enjoying this and the way he was flaunting his enjoyment made you feel even worse. Jim clenched his fists and tightened his jaw, fighting the urge to get his hands dirty and kill everyone in the room. You could see the criminal within him growing, he wanted death.

You decided to find the courage to leave, scurrying with the duvet still wrapped around you. Jim's eyes still followed you, you could feel it: A powerful, scrutinizing look that penetrated you, reaching the very core of your soul. Sebastian annoyingly was blocking the doorway. _Fuck, just what I need. _Judging from his face he had no intention of moving without hassling you. And Sebastian did not disappoint; he raised his arms towards you gesturing for a hug.

"Don't I get a goodbye hug?" He purred, placing his hand on your shoulder, rubbing small circles using his thumb. His touch felt so good but you didn't allow him to have the satisfaction of knowing that. Quickly, you shrugged his hand off and barged passed him.

"Call me!" he shouted after you but didn't bother to turn to look at him.

_God what do I do now? I'm naked, in Jim fucking Moriarty's apartment. I need to find a way out. Now. _You quickly put your underwear on and jeans, the bra clasp was too complicated to manage with your shaking hands so you just put on your shirt. You do the center button and head towards the door, not wasting any time. Your bag was where you had left it on the floor by the shoe rack. _Fuck, shit fuck. Shoes! _You realise your red heels were on the floor, in Moriarty's bedroom. You internally debate whether to go in and get them. _Don't be so foolish. You can't. He'll kill you, then and there. But you can't leave without shoes… _Then the daunting thought hits you. They knew. The both of them must have realised you forget them the moment you left the room. Jim was probably waiting for you to come back to get them. He tricked you into thinking you had some sort of escape, a redemption, a pass to leave. _No. You must leave now, being barefooted was the least of your problems. _Without another glance you open the door, not allowing a moments doubt to change your decision, and leave.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR:

Exiting onto the road, the cold air instantly hits hard, the sharpness causing the hairs on your neck to stand. The shock of what had just happened hadn't sunk in yet. You're emotions were heightened- fear dominating all. Collecting yourself you try to formulate a plan.

_I need to weigh up my options: 1) I could go back into Moriarty's flat and subsequently meet death. 2) I could call someone to pick me up. 3) Run home and forget everything. _Option 1 was certainly not even to be considered: Jim was in destruction-mode, he was volatile and your presence would just add fuel to the fire. Despite knowing Jim Moriarty wasn't one to bother getting his hands dirty; his actions in that apartment were haunting. The way he pressed his thumb against your throat savoring your erratic pulse-rate was too vengeful for him not to be seeking out murder. Ruling out option 1, you map out the possible outcomes for option 2. Even in the case of finding someone awake and willing to rescue you, how would you even begin to explain the circumstance? It's not every day one almost sleeps with a consulting criminal. Discarding the first two ideas you decide to call for a taxi. Having been a range of precarious situations you decide that going on public transport with no shoes on was a new low to stoop to and also with it being 3AM there were no trains running.

You cross the road and find a little café to hide behind; the taxi you had called would take a while and to stand outside Jim's apartment was too foolish. Jim may have been out of sight, but he certainly was not out of mind. His daunting loom lingered over you and you could still feel him.

It's been exactly one week since the incident. One week of nothing but jumping at your own shadow and holing yourself into the sanctuary of your apartment. Every night after returning from your incredibly tedious city-job you would dash home, avoiding all sorts of invitations from co-workers, to sit and prepare for the arrival of Jim. In spite of being accustomed to your new monotonous lifestyle, you longed to go out without the foreboding dread that is Jim Moriarty.

However in spite of your precautions, Jim hadn't even bothered to come for you yet; there were no spectacles or threats. Judging from the lack of contact, you conclude that Jim Moriarty does not fret over petty cases. He's a bloody consulting criminal for goodness sake: Paltry issues are surely something the great Jim Moriarty would not dwell over? He's too sophisticated, professional for it and you thanked him for it. To add to it, the feeling of being watched had eased and the impending sense of doom had rescinded. In fact, you began to feel silly. Jim Moriarty was driving you insane for nothing.

In light of everything, you decide that in the morning you planned to live; to actually resume being alive in this world. "_I will stay alive" _you reassured yourself. If Jim hadn't troubled you yet, he wasn't going to trouble you in the future.

That night, taking comfort from lulling yourself into a false security, you finally slept anxiety-free.

The next day at work felt brighter, the weight of terror had faded away and the feel of liberation now surrounded you. You started to talk to co-workers and friends more, you even ventured out of your office to have lunch in a restaurant nearby. All in all the day was going smoother than the past week. Time passed by swiftly and by 5PM a proud completed stack of paperwork was evidence for your diligence. Satisfied, you call it a day and prepare to leave. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a figure looming in the doorway. Snapping your head to face the person, you immediately relax as you are greeted by the familiar and friendly face of your co-worker Bill.

"Bill." You said smiling to acknowledge his presence.

"Hey, I just stopped by to say I'm having a house-warming at my new flat tonight. I was going to tell you early this week but you seemed… distant. I know it is late notice so I…"

"I'd love to." You quickly interject, saving Bill the trouble of digging himself into a rambling mess.

"Great, here's the address. Almost everyone from the office is coming, starts about 7-ish." He said handing you a paper with his address on it.

"See you later then." You politely say, watching Bill walk out of the office. Once he had left, you shut the door and lock it. _No more surprise visits._

Bill's new flat was nice, spacious and well decorated; even though you didn't have his old flat to compare it to, you assumed this one was better. His apartment reflected his modernised personality perfectly, the apartment was neat and everything was organised slickly. The dull monochrome colour scheme carried on throughout the rooms, every one of them lacked colour. It was the complete opposite of how you fashioned yourself; you preferred antiques and warm colours. Your house wasn't just a house; it was your home, a place of security and individuality.

You notice the company you were with; a good mixture of co-workers and unfamiliar faces. The foreign environment didn't faze anyone; everyone was talking and mingling; aided with the surplus of entrées and drinks, conversation kept flowing. It felt good to see everyone outside the work place and to socialise, but it felt wrong. Everything about the setting felt wrong. _It's too easy._

The party began to come to a natural end around 11PM so you took the opportunity to leave. Arriving home, you conducted the routinely checks- satisfied all the doors were locked you took to bed, suppressing all your daunting thoughts.

_An intense light shone directly above you causing you to instantly shield your eyes. Your senses were not with you and slowly the reality of the situation began to become clear. Tilting yourself to lean on your side, you take a slight glance and see a translucent iridescent stretch of blue. The stillness of it sent chills down your spine. Rotating back to facing upwards, you brave another glimpse of the sky. The glow was pure and spilled across covering every inch of the heavens from horizon to horizon. Feeling the grainy texture of the plank you lay on, your fingers edge along the rims of the wood. The calmness was soothing._

_A sharp salty smell suddenly overwhelmed your senses. The sea began rocking and hissing. The boundless deep was becoming restless and shook against the wooden plank you lay on. The clouds above turned monstrous and raged across the sky, consuming every inch of light. Water now roared high above and waves came crashing down absorbing you into its depths. Rushing into your lungs, the water filled you quickly. A faint beeping sound became apparent as you felt yourself losing consciousness once more. The beeps grew louder and louder…_

You awoke up coughing and spluttering, gasping for air. The incessant beeping in your nightmare followed you back into the refuge of your bedroom. At first you had thought it was your alarm but then the morning haze subsided and you recognised the short series of jingles coming from your phone. Urgent text messages and emails were flooding through the little device. Now alert, you grab your phone and see the 26 emails, 19 text messages and 12 missed calls that had piled up. Opening the first text you read through the screaming capitalised mess of words.

_PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE ALIVE. GODDAMIT ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE. PLEASE, HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS? REPLY AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS. –BH_

_I CAN'T WAIT. I'M COMING OVER. PLEASE, PLEASE BE ALIVE. –BH. _

Quickly you call back Betty to find out what was happening. The sickening fear that you associated with Jim, once again bubbled through you and the nerves caused you to shake. Betty picked up on the second ring and her relief instantly becoming evident.

"Thank God… oh thank God. I thought you had…." She choked out through violent sobs. Eventually gaining the ability to control herself Betty explained the situation. You gripped the phone with one hand and the other clasped another around your mouth as Betty poured out the horrifying news. Tears streamed down your faces until you too were hyperventilating with stifling cries. Still holding on to the phone, you follow Betty's advice and turn on the TV to BBC News. The red urgent banner ran under the screen read:

**Breaking news: Explosion last night in a Central London flat killed 18 people and injured 8. Causes of the explosion are unknown but the Met rule out terrorist suspicions. **

The images on the TV showed the bombsite. Bill's flat lay in a pile of rubble and ash… Bill lay in that pile; your co-workers lay in that pile. You could have been there but thankfully you left early.

You felt faint, it was all too much, too overbearing, too ghastly to get your head around it.

Rushing to the bathroom, you threw up, the acidic vomit burning through you. There could only be one man behind this, Moriarty.

_**A.N Hey guys, sorry this chapter is slightly long and Moriarty-less but I felt I had to set the setting. Also in good news, I have finished my bloody exams so I should be updating more often. So read so of my other fics! Rate/ review with your thoughts on this chapter, it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading. x **_

_**PS sorry about any mistakes...**_


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